by Julie Daines
My voice rose, filling the kitchen with heated words. “He hates me. He can’t stand the sight of me. He wishes I had never been born. I lay unconscious for over twelve hours on my bathroom floor, and he never knew.” I leaned over the counter beside her. “So don’t try and convince me he’s this really great guy. You don’t know anything.”
She lifted her face, and her lips were pressed into a thin line. “Don’t tell me what I know and don’t know. I’m sorry your life has been such a bugger. Must be rough not having loving parents while you drive around in your fancy car and sleep in your giant bed. At least you have a place to stay without bumming flat space from your friends.”
I stared at her. “So now it’s a competition for whose life bites the most? You’re blind. You won the day you were born.”
She dropped her forehead onto her crossed arms and whispered to the granite, “Doesn’t feel like I won.”
“Well, then, I’ll buy you a gold medal so you can feel better.” I fled the kitchen and pounded my way up the stairs to my room. I stood in front of my window, looking toward Forest Park in the direction of my mother’s grave. People always thought that because I had a handful of cash, all my problems would be solved. I was sick of it. Sick and tired. I flopped backward onto my bed and stared at the ceiling.
I thought Scarlett saw past all that. Beyond the money and the lifestyle to the real me. Maybe buying the clothes and the watch was a mistake after all. I just wanted her to be happy. I shook my head at the irony. I knew better than anyone that having nice stuff and happiness were not connected.
I lay there for a long time with my eyes closed. I heard some dishes clanking in the kitchen. Scarlett was getting herself some food. I should’ve gone down to help her, but I didn’t. Truth was, she didn’t need me. Pretty much no one did.
I must have dozed off for a while because when I opened my eyes, the sun had crossed to the other side of the house, leaving my room in cold shadows. Or maybe it was guilt that made me shiver. I shouldn’t have blown up like that. She didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t be like him, I reminded myself.
I went downstairs to check on her. To apologize. With any luck, we could still be friends.
She sat on the couch reading her book, her pink halo of hair just cresting the back of the leather cushion.
Her face turned partway in my direction as I approached. I took a seat beside her.
“Scarlett,” I said in a soft voice. “What am I supposed to do with you?”
She sighed and closed the book. “I know. I should go. You’ve been very kind.”
She thought I wanted to get rid of her. “That’s not what I meant. Parker said the police will only watch the house for one more day. It might not be safe here after that. I don’t want them coming after you again.”
She nodded. “You could just take me back to Detective Parker. He can help me get home.”
“You hate the police,” I said. She was still mad. She had her dark sunglasses barrier back in place—she hadn’t worn those for a while.
“I’m thinking the sooner I leave, the better.”
“Scarlett.” Did she really mean that? I’d only known her a few days, but I felt closer to her than anyone. Not even Jay knew about the overdose thing. It seemed to me that running for our lives from two kidnappers was sort of a bonding experience. But maybe she didn’t feel that way. Maybe she saw what everyone else saw, that I wasn’t really worth it.
It didn’t matter anyway. She’d have to go home eventually, and probably sooner would be better—for her own safety.
“Let’s wait until tomorrow. If it seems all clear, we’ll figure out a plan.”
“Yeah. Brilliant,” she said quietly.
It didn’t seem that brilliant to me either. I’d devised a plan to procrastinate a plan. But what else could I do? Except make amends for the kitchen scene.
“Scarlett, I’m sorry.”
She took her sunglasses off and set them on the couch beside her Braille book. I took that as a good sign. But she didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry I yelled. I was tired. I was bugged because of my dad. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You deserve better.”
She still didn’t speak. She just sat there staring at the wall with the phantom of a frown across her face. Finally, her expression cleared.
“It’s okay.” She rested her hand on my leg. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean what I said.”
“So you don’t want me to hand you over to Detective Parker?” I teased.
She grinned. “Well, he’s not so bad for a Yank. But I’d rather stay with you.”
There was my Scarlett. She was back. I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks.”
“Berk,” she said but made no attempt to move away.
“So what do you want to do now?” I asked.
“What do you usually do on a Sunday afternoon?”
Well, thanks to Parker’s visit this morning, we’d missed church. On a normal Sunday at this time, I’d probably be at Jay’s house for dinner. I hadn’t turned my phone on to check it since the Lloyd Center. My inbox was probably jammed with messages of panic from Jay. He always went into overprotective mode if he thought I was anywhere near falling away from the Church again. Note to self: Send a calming text to Jay!
Or about this time, I’d be sitting home alone watching TV. Even on Sunday Dad worked until nine thirty or ten. Occasionally, Gloria watched with me. We were on civil terms. She knew I struggled with her, and she seemed understanding about it. She was careful not to interfere. I was fairly certain she also knew Dad didn’t really love her, but he liked Gloria more than me, and that pleased Gloria.
“I guess nothing. Pretty boring life,” I said. “Maybe watch a game.”
“That’s fine. I’ll read while you watch.”
She picked up her book. The cover was plain white paper with no picture, just a group of raised dots in the center and the title and publishing information in print underneath. The larger-than-notebook–size pages had a black plastic edge thing holding them together, like it had been bound down at the local copy center.
The papers were solid white with Braille bumps in rows. She opened the book flat across her lap and ran the fingers of both hands over the paper. She turned the page and kept going, moving quickly across the bumps. Then she stopped and moved back and forth a few times over the same set of dots.
“What’s this word?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. There’s no print at all. I’m sorry I’m so useless.”
“Get off,” she said with a laugh. “I’m just taking the Mickey. I could feel you watching me.”
“How can you even read that?”
“Like this.” She took my hand and placed it on the page, then she put her fingers in front of mine. She slid our fingers across the Braille, reading aloud.
How could she form those dots into words? It felt like nothing to me. Like the bumpy surface of a basketball. Maybe there are subliminal Braille messages on basketballs. Had anyone checked on that?
“You’re a genius, really. I can’t feel anything.” Actually, I was feeling something, but it didn’t have anything to do with Braille. Her body, small as it was, fit perfectly next to mine.
She transferred her mystic reading powers to me and put her fingers on my face. Every time she did that, my blood boiled. I lifted her hand off. “You know, that’s not really fair.”
“Blind from birth, yeah? I don’t have to be fair.”
Ugh. Did I really say that? Why was I such a dimwit? “Scarlett, I didn’t mean that. I’m an idiot.”
“S’pose I should disagree, shouldn’t I? But sometimes you are a bit daft.” She placed her soft touch back on my cheeks then ran her fingers through my hair.
I leaned down and kissed her, putting my arm around her shoulders. She closed her book and set it carefully on the floor while at the same kissing me with very effective enthusiasm.
The doorbell
rang, and both our heads jerked up, instantly alert.
“Are they here?” she asked.
“I doubt it. Not with the cops out front.” Maybe one of the policemen needed the john or something.
I went to the control panel on the kitchen wall and pressed the button to view the front door. A man stood on the front steps, waiting. He didn’t wear a uniform, so not one of the surveillance team.
“I don’t recognize him,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“We have security cameras. I can see him outside, and it’s not someone I’ve seen before.”
He rang the bell again and stepped back, looking at the house.
I pushed the speaker and asked in a voice that I hoped sounded like a parent and not a seventeen-year-old kid, “Who is it?”
“My name is Simon Lawrence. I’m looking for Scarlett Becket.” He had a British accent.
Scarlett grabbed my arm. “It is Simon. I know his voice. Open the door.”
“The guy who never answers his phone?”
“Yes.” She tugged on my arm again. “The man who let me stay at his flat after I left the Shepherd.”
Yeah, yeah. I knew who he was. I checked the monitor again. He looked a little old for Scarlett. Maybe he really was just a friend.
“Christian, let him in. He’s my best friend, my only friend.”
Best friend? Only friend? Where did that leave me? Did a little kiss on the couch not qualify me for the list of friends? What more had Simon given to make the cut?
She gave up on me and headed for the door, running her hand along the wall.
“Scarlett, wait.” I wasn’t going to let her answer the door alone. We’d already covered that in the bathroom. “I’ll let him in. Let’s just go carefully. What if it’s a trick?”
“How can it be a trick? I know him like a brother.”
Brother? That sounded a little better. “I’ll open the door, and you just hang back until I find out what he wants, got it?”
“Fine.”
She stood behind the door while I cracked it open about two inches. “What do you want?”
“Hello, my name is Simon Lawrence. I got a call from the police about Scarlett. I’m her guardian, and I’ve come to take her home.”
Chapter Thirteen
Christian vs. The Nightmare, Reprise
I opened the door a little wider, and Scarlett slipped past me. “Simon!” she cried.
Simon touched her hand, letting her know where he was. She jumped into his arms. He was shorter than me by several inches but well built. Younger than my father, although definitely older than I’d expected based on what Scarlett had told me.
He hugged her tightly then lowered her onto the doorstep. He kissed her forehead in a rather platonic way and said, “I’ve been so worried.”
I swung the door wide. “Do you want to come in?”
“Thanks.” He stepped into the house.
One of the cops from the surveillance car stood on the sidewalk and called, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. He’s her friend from England.” I closed the door and ushered Scarlett and Simon into the family room.
Scarlett sat next to Simon on the couch, where we’d just been kissing. I took a seat in the extra chair.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
Simon leaned back and draped his arms across the cushions, crossing his legs. “I got a phone call from an American police officer asking me about Scarlett. If I knew her. If she’d gone missing.”
It had to be Detective Parker. He’s the only one who knew the whole story. He’d definitely taken me more seriously than I’d thought if he’d called overseas to follow up on Scarlett’s situation. Parker must have told Simon she was with me. So he had come to get her.
Simon went on. “I told him I’d been going crazy trying to find her.” He ruffled Scarlett’s hair. “Never thought she’d be in America though.”
“Didn’t you go to the police in London?” I asked.
“Course. They were on the search as well. But she had vanished. I’m not sure they were convinced she didn’t just take off on her own.”
Right. Because so many blind girls set off to make their way with only the clothes on their backs, no friends, and no money. Did they really think she’d just jump on the subway and head out?
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Scarlett said.
“I’m just glad you’re safe. You have no idea how scared I’ve been.” His arm dropped from the back of the couch to her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. Another friendly gesture. Maybe Simon really was nothing more than a nice guy helping out a homeless blind girl. Then he said, “I’m sorry to rush, but we have a plane to catch. We need to leave.”
It was a sucker punch to the gut. “So soon?” In only three days, Scarlett had wormed her way into my life so completely that the thought of her leaving left a lump in my throat. We’d just established that she’d stay a little longer. I wasn’t ready to let her go.
Scarlett frowned. I hoped that meant she was disappointed too. She’d been so excited to see Simon I’d almost expected her to jump up and run for the door, towing him along behind her.
“What time do we have to leave?” she asked, flipping open the glass cover of her watch.
“Wow, brilliant,” Simon said. “Where did you get it?”
“Christian bought it for me. And this.” She picked up the Braille book that still lay on the floor, set aside during our moment of distraction.
“Nice,” he said. “But look at the time. Scarlett, we’d better go.”
“Can I take my stuff?” she asked me.
“Of course. What would I do with it?”
She put her glasses on and left the room, taking her book and a large portion of my happiness with her. Her soft footsteps padded up the stairs.
Simon looked at me, and his eyes got a little moist. “Thanks for taking care of her. The police officer told me you had some trouble. I can never repay you for your kindness to her.” He wiped an eye. “She seems happy.”
I nodded. I should be chatting with Simon. Small talk. But my brain was scrambled trying to remember what I’d done with my life before she got here. “Well . . . she’s pretty cool. It was nice to get to know her.” We sat in silence a little longer. “Uh, Scarlett talked about you quite a bit,” I said then quickly added, “in a good way.”
He smiled and nodded.
“We tried to call you. A lot. Maybe your phone was turned off?”
He pulled out a little cell phone from his breast pocket and flipped it open. “Is that so? I didn’t get any messages. But this mobile’s been giving me trouble.” He laughed at it like it was an adorable, disobedient child. “It doesn’t work outside the UK anyway.”
“So is there a number I can reach her at? I might want to call and say hi sometime.”
“Of course. Ring her anytime.” He rattled off a long number, and I entered it into my contacts. He said it was the number to the flat. I guess Scarlett didn’t have a phone of her own.
Simon leaned forward and spoke quietly, I assumed so Scarlett wouldn’t hear. “I know you’re worried about her. But I want you to know, I’ve taken extra precautions to keep her safe. I installed a new lock on the door, and I’ve taken next week off work, just to make sure things settle down properly. The London police know what happened; they’re on the lookout. It won’t happen again.”
I hadn’t forgotten that she was taken from Simon’s apartment in the first place. But with Connor and Deepthroat chasing us around Portland, London definitely felt safer than here. How many times could a couple of kidnappers fly back and forth across the Atlantic toting stolen blind girls?
“That’s great,” I said.
More silence.
He checked his watch and then scooted to the edge of the couch. “Maybe I should go help?”
“No.” I stood up. This would give me a chance to say good-bye in private. “You make yourself at home. I’ll go che
ck on her.”
I jogged up the stairs and opened a hall closet. I found a carry-on with wheels and headed into Scarlett’s room. She sat on her bed with her head in her hands.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” She stood and walked to the chest of drawers, feeling around until she found the handle and then pulled it open.
“Here’s a suitcase for you.” I put it on the bed and unzipped it, flipping the top open. “I think it will hold all your stuff without being bigger than you are.” I chuckled, but she didn’t respond. Usually, jokes about her small stature got a little rise out of her. Not this time.
“Thanks.” She turned around, holding a pair of brand-new mangled jeans.
I placed her free hand on the suitcase. She put the jeans in before turning back for something else.
I stepped in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me. What’s up? I’d thought you’d be glad to go home. You seemed happy enough to see Simon.”
“I am happy to see Simon. And I do miss home.”
“But?”
“But I’m also sad to leave.”
Sad to leave me or sad to leave my money? I’d seen it even before Gloria. It’s not like we were the richest family in Portland. There were bucket loads of people with more wealth than us. But Dad could retire now and still be set—very well set—for the rest of his life. That kind of lifestyle is attractive to some women. I didn’t think Scarlett was one of them. But after what she said in the kitchen, I wasn’t sure. More than one girl at school had tried to attach herself to me because of money.
“Why?” I asked.
She side-stepped around me and placed her folded Mind the Gap T-shirt into the suitcase. She held out her hand, an indication that she wanted an exact location of the person she was with. I took it and moved closer.
“Don’t you know?” she whispered.
It was for me. She didn’t want to leave me. I grinned and pulled her in close. Stay, I wanted to say. Stay with me. But I couldn’t. She needed to go home. I’d tried to help her and keep her safe, but I’d made more fumbles than saves.